


Rashtrakutan Kings

by ankti



Category: Highlander - All Media Types, Highlander: The Series
Genre: Gen, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-04-25 14:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4964794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ankti/pseuds/ankti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Political and military unrest threaten to tear the  Rashtrakutan Empire apart. At the heart of it Prince Sharva and his bodyguard, the immortal Jacob Kalin, struggle against threats, both mortal and immortal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Palace

Silk drapes dampened the morning sunlight into a soft, blue glow. Wind rustled the cloth, rippling blue light against the furniture and walls, making it seem like the bottom of a clear pool. The chairs and couches were over plump and richly embroidered. More blue silk hung off the ceiling in long ribbons that spanned the room.

The boy sat on his knees in front of a shrine. Offerings and incense surrounded the copper figurine of a goddess. His meditative prayer had ended some time ago, but he seemed to take comfort from gazing at the statuette. Today, as he did many days, the boy watched her while he made his mind ready for the day.

“It is a waste, and we will suffer for it,” he did not turn to the man behind him, but stared into the shrine.

“I don’t disagree,” his bodyguard was used to this ritual, and waited while his charge sorted through his thoughts.

“Yet you won’t say a word of it to my father.”

“It’s not my place to advise your father on these matters.” Jacob sat behind the boy, reposed on a couch, one leg pulled up beside him, the other dangling above the ground.

“Don’t feign irrelevancy, you are one of his closest advisers, or he would not have trusted me to your care.”

“Your father trusts my skill with a sword, and my presence on a battlefield. I would sound like a fool if I tried to give advice about his daughters.”

“So your pride is more important than my sister’s future? More important than all the good she might do for our people?”

Jacob examined the back of the boy’s head and the bare, angular shoulders below. Sharva’s hair was a dark black that in bright sunlight could be mistaken for a dyed blue. At thirteen he was still scrawny, dark tan skin over small, birdlike bones. He was bare-chested now, wearing only a brown linen wrap around his waist.

As he had almost every morning for the last six years, Jacob waited for Sharva, staying near his person to guard against assassins or abductors. Jacob wore the linens and silks of high military office, as many in the Raja’s palace. They were green and blue, and embroidered at the cuffs with gold. His curved, Arabian sword hung at his waist. His dark brown hair was cut short, and his naturally pale skin was tanned a light brown from the sun.

“I can arrange for a formal audience for you, you can tell your father yourself.”

The small shoulders tensed, the head shot up, no longer focused on the goddess. “In front of the court?”

“If it is a matter of dharma, then it must be brought before the Raja.”

“I never said it was a matter of dharma.” Sharva spun now, lifting to one foot. His dark brown eyes, almost black, looked incredulously at his bodyguard.

“You said it was a waste of something that might guard the good of the people. Wouldn’t your father need to hear that to uphold Rajadharma?” Jacob raised an eyebrow.

Sharva wrinkled his nose in distaste, crinkling what was otherwise a flawless face, “I’m beginning to think you will never understand dharma. There are toddlers who understand it better than you do.”

“Yet you think I’m the best man to make this case to your father?” Jacob smiled, exposing his crooked teeth.

“He respects you -”

“And he will respect you one day,” Jacob leaned forward, lifting his foot off the couch and resting both feet on the ground, “when you speak these thoughts to him, not to me.”

Sharva held his gaze, lips in a sullen pout before finally speaking, “Maybe I will.”

Both Jacob’s eyebrows went up, “Truly?”

“Did you truly intend to schedule an audience?” Sharva stood, his hands on his hips.

“Yes, if you wish it, you can speak to him tomorrow.”

The boy’s eyes drifted as he considered. Jacob rested his elbows on his knees and waited.

“Then do it,” Sharva still looked to the side, not making eye contact, “I will speak before the court tomorrow on the matter of my sister’s betrothal.” His eyes darted up to Jacob’s, searching briefly for signs of encouragement.

Jacob grinned before nodding and standing. “You will need to practice, have ready what you are going to say.”

“It is good to know my brother thinks of me when I am away.” The voice came from the doorway, and they both spun to see its source.

“Vakani!” Sharva hopped over the waist-high couch where Jacob had been, and crossed the room to his sister.

She engulfed him in a hug. Though she could not pick him up as she could just a few years ago, she was still a much larger figure, and almost twice his age.

“I thought you would be in Kanchipuram until the wedding was announced.” He pulled away from her and looked up to her face.

Their appearance was strikingly similar - the same sharp, long face, the same narrow features and dark eyes. But where Sharva’s face had an angular, masculine edge that would only grow more defined as he aged, Vakani’s face had softened as she grew into a woman.

“If I really am to marry and make a home in that city, there are many preparations.”

Behind her, now filtering through the doorway, was a cluster of young women. They were her servants and friends, most of whom lived with the princess in her apartments. Jacob smiled at them, nodding his head. They all knew him well, though many of the younger ones still blushed or hid their faces.

“Do you want to marry Ko Makiyan?” Sharva stood back from his sister.

“I want many things, brother.”

Like her father, the Raja, Vakani could make her face unreadable. Jacob’s strategy in court was to watch the faces of advisers and counselors, men who might have been privy to Govinda’s unfiltered opinion, men who lacked the Raja’s discipline over his features.

The same strategy worked with the princess and her entourage. Two women, one the princess’s cousin, the other the servant longest in her service, exchanged a sideways glance and frowned slightly.

“You would discourage our prince from speaking before the court?” Jacob asked.

Vakani turn her head slightly, darting her eyes down, then up to inspect Jacob before answering. “I would encourage the prince to speak before the court as often as possible about the matters of state.”

“And of this matter in particular?” Jacob raised an eyebrow at her.

She did not answer him, but turned back to her brother. “Of all the heirs contending for our father’s title, Sharva, I think you are the one best suited to lead.” The prince had not yet mastered a stoic facade, and grinned before a slight blush crept up his cheek. “But if I’m right then you have to be more decisive. You made your decision, why hesitate now?”

“Is it hesitation to ask my sister what she would prefer?”

“Yes,” she nodded, “If you were Raja, then I would be bound to trust your leadership. If you thought I should marry Ko Makiyan, I would. But, if you thought I might serve better in another role, I would obey.”

The youngest of Vakani’s maids, the daughter of a lesser minister, raised her eyebrows expectantly and held her breath.

There was a long silence while the boy thought.

“We have other siblings who would be better suited to a political marriage. Tempavai or Pilliy could serve Father at Ko Makiyan’s side. Your talents would be better served in your own seat of authority, not reliant on another’s.”

Many of the young women were smiling now, and a small grin of approval spread on Jacob’s face. He looked to Vakani, to her unwavering dark eyes.

“Jacob, you will assist me.” Sharva moved away from his sister, going to dress so he could leave his apartments. “As you said, I need to prepare.”

“I don’t think I’m the best man to help you.” He caught a look from Vakani, her stoic facade down just long enough to raise a mocking eyebrow in agreement, “Perhaps Adem would be a better choice.”

“You suggest a Westerner like yourself as my brother’s advisor?” Vakani’s tone was all mockery now, nothing veiled.

“Adem knows the laws and the religious requirements better than anyone. And he has the Raja’s unending respect. He is the right man.“

“He is,” Sharva nodded in agreement as he wrapped the ties of a yellow silk garment around his waist, “Officially he is my tutor in poetry and geography, but his wisdom runs much deeper than that.”

“If you say.” Vakani inclined her head to her brother.

Now dressed, he crossed the room and hugged her again. “Will you be in court tomorrow?”

A tremor passed through her face, a tightening of the muscles around the eye and jaw. It was so faint Jacob doubted Sharva had noticed.

“Of course. I would not miss my brother’s first presentation to the Raja.” She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead, then looked up to Jacob. “Will you be speaking to the court tomorrow, Kalin?”

“The Raja has heard all I have to say about the consequences of blocking trade routes.” Jacob folded his arms across his chest.

“And yet the northern provinces are still being punished with soldiers on the roads, slowing their incoming trade from the sea.”

“As you said, the Raja has decided, I must obey.”

She turned away without a response, focusing again on her brother.

“Thank you for coming to see me, Vakani.” Sharva patted his sister on the arm.

She smiled at him, “I should leave you, you have much to do before tomorrow.”

On her way through the door she was absorbed into the circle of women, her red dress vanishing into a sea of silk and scarves. Their whispered chatter echoed in the hallway, but could not be discerned.

“Are you ready?” Jacob asked.

“Yes,”  Sharva walked quickly out the door, Jacob only a few steps behind.

The muffled sound of women talking could still be heard down the hall, towards the princess’ apartments, but the woman soon disappeared from view. The hallway was stone and mortar. Windows lined one side, letting in warm sunlight.

The palace sprawled across a large estate. Like all of the royal family, Sharva had quarters in the upper floors of the towers that dotted the palace. They made their way to a staircase and down. They had to cross almost half the palace to reach Adem’s quarters in the south wing, were many of the court scholars and poets lived.

To walk through the estate was like traveling down a busy street in any city. Servants, guards, and workers went in and out of rooms, lingered in halls, and greeted them as they passed.

Jacob left a note in the office of the Clerk as they passed it, to add Sharva to the itinerary for open court the next day. The apprentice who took the note was a young man with bells and flat metal disks woven through his hair. The bells jingled loudly as his head jerked up to see the prince.

“Prince Pratih will also be speaking, on military matters. I will slate you after him.”

“Before,” Jacob said

The bells jingled again as he turned to Jacob, “It is custom -”

“Pratih will bring heavy matters to the court, matters that will weigh on the Raja. It will be best if Sharva speaks first. His matter is no less important, but will be dwarfed in comparison."

"The Clerk will change it when he sees-"

"If he tries, send him to me and I will explain." It was not a threat, there was no harsh tone in his voice, but the apprentice nodded seriously, bells ringing.

Once out of the office, their path took them through a wide dining hall. Carved statues served as pillars to hold up a lofty ceiling. The figures were alternating men and women, brightly painted and draped with cloth and jewelry. It had been costum, when the hall was first built, that the men and woman segregate themselves down rows in accordance with the statutes. That was rarely the case now, and the hall was unsegregated on all but the most formal occasions.

The space was a common gathering area for many in the estate. Some people ate small meals at the tables, other played dice games on the floor. Children often played in the hall, treating it like an indoor park.

Today the room was sparsely occupied, a few clusters of older children, spending a little time together before they had to report to their tutors or masters.

Sharva stopped to chat briefly with a group of boys - children and wards of political leaders who lived in the Raja’s estate. While almost all of them would become leaders and ministers in time, none were princes. Isolated from them both socially and physically, Sharva still always sought to be part of their group when he could.

Jacob was all too aware that his presence served to isolate the boy further. A bodyguard, one chosen from the Raja’s highest ranking officers, marked Sharva as an outsider. Jacob tried to give the boy what freedom he could, but most of the boyhood activities that would help Sharva form deep bonds of friendship could not be done with a soldier standing just a few feet away.

When Sharva was younger, Jacob had made a plea to the Raja that if the boy could not be allowed to travel in the same packs as the other noble children, that he be allowed companions near him like the princesses had. But the Raja had lost two sons to poison, and would not risk a jealous minister or lesser lord corrupting such companions.

So Jacob stood as far back as his duty allowed in such mixed company while Sharva chatted and laughed.

Recently some of the older boys had began paying Sharva more attention than before. They were beginning to understand that their future might depend on a friendly relationship with the prince. Sharva was smart enough to see this flattery for what is was, but did not turn it away. Jacob wondered if it was strategy of his own, or simple longing that motivated him to allow it.

“I wish I could ride a horse that well.”

Sharva did not blush at the complement, did not smile, only nodded his head. His stoic face was easier to hold here than in front of his sister.

“The riding isn’t the challenge,” his enthusiasm for the subject seemed genuine, but Jacob knew the boy found his riding lessons dull, “it’s not stabbing the horse with the sword.”

The boys laughed at that, some a little too loudly. One, an older boy who did not laugh with the others, cast Jacob a scowl. Jacob recognized him a court apprentice, and son of a provincial minister.

“Is it true you rode at the head of the army when it marched east?”

“Of course, my brother and I both rode beside our father.”

“They didn’t fight any battles,” it was the minister’s son, “All it took for the rebels to surrender was seeing the army marching toward them.”

“Still a victory,” another boy pointed out.

“It will be a victory when we have order again in the east, and the north.” Sharva unknowingly echoed words his father used during war councils. Though, considering that the Raja’s top advisers were also the boy’s tutors in matters of war, it was not surprising they’d been drawn to the same opinion.

Sharva said goodbye to the boys and received more than one friendly pat on the arm. His stoic face finally fell and grin of gratitude hung at the edge of his lips. Jacob resolved to approach the Raja again with the issue of finding companions for the boy.  

The scholars quarters were not so busy as the rest of the palace. Few scholars had their own servants, only the palace servants assigned to their quarters. There were many expansive common rooms where the scholars could gather, teach their pupils, or hold debates.

Long before they reached the hallway leading to Adem’s quarters, Jacob felt a warm, dizzying pressure in his mind. Even though he was expecting it, he could not stop the physiological effect it had on him; his heart pounded faster, and his muscles tensed.

He heard Adem’s voice coming from a small meeting room just a few doors away. Sharva had heard it too, and went straight for the door. Jacob followed, staying back by the door rather than following Sharva further into the room.

“Then why is it that the body of a pishacha has never been studied?” Adem was seated on a table, his back to the door.

Before him stood two men, one clearly agitated, the other staring seriously at Adem with arms crossed.  Adem was taller than the other men, taller than most men, but hunched his shoulders. His prominent nose was even more out of place than his pale skin, a clear marker of his foreignness.  

“Brought before you, you mean,” the agitated man said, pointing a finger at Adem, “Brought before a European who can be trusted, maybe?”

“I meant no such thing.” Adem waved off the accusation casually, “There are a dozen men, just in this capital, whom I would trust to look at a body and know it to be other than human, but none have ever seen a pishacha.”

The small room was lined in bookshelves, though many of the shelves were empty. Tables were arranged at odd angles, stools scattered around. Just inside the door was a long, plush couch, and on it lay a short sword still in its sheath next to a neatly folded set of robes.

Jacob came to rest just inside the door, leaning against the stone wall.

“Are we talking about demons?” Sharva stood next to the table, placing himself as a mediator between the two sides.

Adem turned his head, casting the door a look to see Jacob. Their eyes met for just a moment, long enough to acknowledge each other and no longer.

“And monsters, and many of the other things that live in shadows.” Adem shifted his whole body to Sharva, now addressing him rather than the men. “What does our prince think? Are there truly flesh eating monsters lurking the streets.”

“They don’t need to be monsters, men are more than capable of such evil.” The boy’s answer was so quick, it seemed he’d been part of the debate from the start.

Adem lifted his eyebrows, seemingly impressed with the answer.

The third man uncrossed his arms and spoke slowly, “Could their bodies simply look human when they die?”

“Then how do we know it is not as our price has just said? Maybe they were men the whole time, mistaken for monster.”

“And how far would you take this?” the agitated scholar spoke again, “Would you say that you do not believe in the gods because you have not held one? Or maybe the sun, because you have not touched it?”

“The sun warms my skin every day,” he gestured at the window. “As for the gods -” he looked to the prince, then quickly again to Jacob, “I think we might not have time today to give the gods a proper discussion.”

“I’m not sure there is enough time in a single life to have a proper discussion about gods,” Sharva said, “but you are right, I need your time today Adem, if you have some to give.”

“I do,” he nodded.

The other men bowed to the prince before making their way to the door.

“This is not complete,” the agitated scholar shouted back as he passed Jacob on his way out the door.

“It never is, Rali, that is what we love about it.” Adem smiled at him.

The man smiled back, though without Adem’s enthusiasm.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your debate.”

Adem waved his hand dismissively at the prince, “When Rali has lost an argument so thoroughly that he must resort to his distaste for my European education, the debate is all but over.”

“Are there pishacha in Europe?” the prince asked, seeming to forget his purpose.

“Not that I know of,” Adem crossed his arms and wrinkled his brow in thought, “But European men believe in many other kinds of demons. Succubus and incubus, wicked, horrible things that visit you in the night,” he said it all with a playful tone, “What about you Jacob? Have you ever seen a demon?”

“The Devil himself was said to dance around my village well every full moon,” Jacob said in a serious tone, “My brothers and I would sneak out to try and see him.”

“The devil? That is the adversary to the European god, yes?” Sharva asked.

“And the Muslim god,” Jacob nodded.

“Did you ever see him dancing at the well?”

“Not once,” Jacob shrugged at the prince.

“Did you see anything else interested by the moonlight?” Adem asked, one eyebrow raised.

“I saw men not in their beds, and women who were not their wives.”

“Some would call that the work of the Devil.”

“Maybe, but again I think our prince is right,” Jacob nodded at the boy, “why blame a devil when man’s wickedness is more likely the cause.”

“Our prince has said a lot of insightful things today. There in karmic wisdom in the observation that a single lifetime is not enough to reflect on the gods. A wisdom that resonates strongly with me.” Adem’s eyes twinkled slightly as he glanced at Jacob. “I think I might meditate more on that topic.”

“It is your insight I seek today Adem.” Sharva smiled, his mood always bright around his favorite tutor.

“What would my prince ask of me?” He spread his hands open, spider-like fingers wide apart.

“I am speaking before the court tomorrow on the matter of my sister’s betrothal. I need to prepare.”

“Which sister?”

“Vakani.”

Again Adem cast a twinkling glance at Jacob, who gave him a quick scowl in return.

“Gladly. Let’s start with what you have now. Were you to present your argument before your father at this moment, what would you say?”

Jacob pushed away from the wall, before the prince could answer, “If you have no need of me, I will take this time to attend to other matters.”

“Of course.” Sharva turned to him and nodded.

Jacob bowed in return and left the room. Adem was one of the few men who had both the trust of the Raja, and whom Jacob believed capable of protecting the prince. Still, Jacob told two of the guards patrolling the wing to station themselves near the price.

He went first to the office of the estate guard, where the head of the guard, Munurrvappi, spent most of his days. He intended to enlist Munurrvappi’s support in the cause to find the prince some trustworthy companions.

Technically Jacob was in the Raja’s personal militia, not in the estate guard, but he always worked closely with the guard to ensure the safety of the royal family. Jacob was surprised to find the commander out, on a patrol of city with some of his men. He left a message with the pages, arranging a time for a formal meeting.

Next he went to his own office, a small room with a staff of two pages who kept his calendar and monitored the salary of the few officers who answered directly to Jacob. The place belonged more to Catti, the woman who kept his books, than it did to him.

When he entered she was hunched over a logbook.

“Are we traveling north?” she continued to balance figures in the logbook and did not look up.

“It’s too soon to know that.”

“And soon it will be too late to hire more men if we do go north.”

“We will not need more men.”

“If you say.”

Her incredulous tone made Jacob smile. “If we do go north I could just take you. Whole armies would tremble.”

“As they should.” she looked up to him with an expression so serious he couldn’t help but laugh.

Her black hair was greying in the front, and her stout fingers seemed always to be stained with ink.

“Perhaps, Catti, you are right. We should be ready if the Raja agrees with Prince Pratih. If he wants to go north, we will be leaving soon.”

“And we will take no extra men?”

“Sharva is too old to be surrounded by a cloud of guards every time he leaves the estate. Pratih shed his last bodyguard over a year ago, and it earned him a much respect.” Jacob perched on the edge of Catti’s table.

“Respect will do our Sharva little good if he is dead.”

“You don’t trust in my skills?”

“There have been seven separate attempts on the prince’s life, two while he was marching with the Raja’s army. The Raja should flood you with soldiers, and scold Pratih for strutting around unguarded."

“Too many men is just as dangerous as too few. It was one of the estate guard that smuggled in the poison that killed Kijri and Dhira.”

Catti was silent at that. The names of the Raja’s two dead sons were rarely spoken in the estate. There was still great mourning over the now six year old loss, and more than a little superstition about the crime.

“So, I will tell the men to be ready to travel?” Catti finally spoke, hunching once more over the figures.

“Do that. Pratih will have audience tomorrow, and if the Raja agrees with him, the army could be marching before the end of the month.”

“Of course.”

On his way out the door, he touched his fingertips against the statute of Durga, then to his forehead. Though he did not necessarily believe in all the Vedic gods, he did find some comfort in the rituals of their faith.

His apartments were only a small set of rooms connected to the prince’s more grand ones. Once there, he stripped off his sword and jacket, planning to move through his strength exercises. Though he had not yet exerted himself, the heat and humidity of the day had already drawn a damp sweat from him.

The room was full of red and yellow drapings, which fluttered back and forth in the weak breeze. There was a low bed, surrounded by another yellow draping. A tall shelf held most of Jacob’s possessions.

Many long years of nomadic life had left him without the habit of accumulation. Most of the things in his apartments were gifts or standards of office given to him by the Raja or the military. One shelf held a short, iron sword, the Roman blade he’d carried before his Arabian sword. It was the only memento he kept of his life before coming east.

Jacob unfastened the ties that held his shirt together in the front, and slipped it off his shoulders. He pulled back the curtain on his bed, and was startled to find it occupied.

Vakani laughed at him and rose from her prone poster to her knees. “I’m not sure a man as unobservant as you can be trusted with my brother’s safety."

She smiled broadly, a playful glint in her eye. She still wore the same red silk dress, but it was twisted, and gripped tightly to her body.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He tilted his head at her, and did not smile.

“Should you? Who guards the safety of the prince?” She lifted a mocking eyebrow at him.

“You are better at that than your father.” He let the curtain go and Vakani was again hidden behind the yellow cloth.

Her dark hand emerged and she pushed the curtain far back on its rod so the bed was exposed.

“The Raja is in the habit of sneaking into your apartments?”

Jacob tossed his shirt onto a chair rather than on the bed as he’d intended. “You control conversations. You are always the one asking the questions, never answering them.”

She leaned back on her arms and smiled at him. He sat in the chair and watched her.

“I’d hoped to watch you do your exercises, they always make for a wonderful show.” When he did not respond she sat up again and reached a hand out to him, “Come, sit next to me.”

He stood and went to her, speaking in an over-harsh tone, “Where do you tell your flock you are going when you come here?”

“They know I visit a lover, though only a few know who it is.” She lifted his hand and held it in hers.

He ran his other hand along her shoulder, brushing her dark skin with the backs of his fingers.

“And they can be trusted?”

“Unlike my brothers, I have never had bodyguards of my own. I have had to learn to protect myself. My ladies are carefully chosen. They would not betray me.”

“The estate guard has always protected you. And they are not the only ones interested in keeping you safe.” He put his hand under her chin.

She grinned and squeezed his hand, “You are talking about Rushat.”

He was taken aback, and only managed to stutter in response before she continued.

“I know about the training you’ve given her, and the orders.”

“She wasn’t supposed to tell you,” he managed to say, confusion turning into a scowl.  

Jacob thought he’d kept his plan well hidden. Rushat was one of the princesses oldest companions, a second cousin who’d lived in the estate her whole life. When the Raja had turned down Jacob’s request to assign more men to the princesses, Jacob had trained Rushat to guard the princess and keep her safe.

“She is loyal to me, not to you,” Vakani ran her fingers through his short hair, “She told me the first time you approached her with your scheme. I thought it was a rather good idea.”

He wanted to close his eyes and lose himself in her touch. Instead he gripped her arm by the wrist and looked her in the eye.

“Vakani you need to leave, we can’t do this any longer.” All harshness had left his voice, he spoke kindly and quietly.

“I am allowed to take a lover, as long as I exercise discretion.” She let go of his hand and lifted herself onto his lap, straddling his legs. Her red dress rode up, exposing her thighs.

He put his hands on either side of her waist. “You are betrothed now. It is different.”

“As long as I am loyal after my marriage, at least long enough to have heirs, and as long as my first children to him are born nine months after we marry, then I am free to do as I like." He sighed, but did not interrupt her, "Besides, I may not marry Ko Makiyan. Even if Sharva can not convince my father it is the wrong choice, war in the north will re-write all the treaties."

Jacob was reminded of the conversation with the prince, “Sharva said something that angered you today. What was it.”

Her jaw tensed as she remembered it. “It was not Sharva’s wrong. It’s only,” she rolled her eyes, “he asked me if I would be in court, if I would be there to witness as my brother and father debated my future. In such a situation my presence is optional.”

He reached up to brush the hair that framed her face“It’s not -”

She gently pushed his hand aside, “As if Govinda would even notice that his daughter was there.”

“Yet you tell Sharva it is your duty to obey.”

“It is,” her body stiffened now, pulling back from him, “That does not mean I have to be happy with it. It does not mean I shouldn’t fight to get what I want.”

“What do you want?” He leaned back slightly, and his hands drifted down from her waist to her thighs.

Her posture softened. “I don’t know, not to be bartered off to some eastern lord in exchange for better trade routes.”

“Then why not tell Sharva that? He would understand.”

“Yes, and then he would speak to his father as a little boy, asking a favor for his sister. Instead he will be a contender for the Raja’s seat, bringing a matter of policy before the court.”

Jacob raised an eyebrow, “Your father has made a mistake ignoring you for so long.”

“Sharva has not made the same mistake, and he will be Raja after Govinda.”

“You are sure? Most think Pratih is the obvious choice.”

“Pratih is at best, my father’s third choice. He would rather my cousin Karka before my eldest brother. Pratih appeases my father’s appetite for conquest, but he will never be trusted with the leadership of the land.”

She ran her hands through his hair again, and he closed his eyes, breathing in the smell of sweat that rose from her skin. His fingers played with the edge of her dress, rubbing the soft fabric, then slipping under to press against her skin.

“My brother will not be with his tutor all day,” she said to him, “and I do have my own business to attend to. Do you wish to spend all our time together talking about politics?”

He opened his eyes, “If Govina decides you are to marry Ko Makiyan, you can’t come here again.”

“All the more reason to enjoy ourselves now.”

He leaned forward and kissed her neck. Small beads of sweat had risen up on her skin, and they brushed against his lips and tongue with a salty sting.

She pulled herself close to him, the silk of her dress pressed into his bare chest.

There were many things he wanted to say, things he wished to say each time he saw her. But he did not. His words would only complicate what they had, shatter the illusion that they could live just in this moment and forget the outside world.

He let the thoughts drift away. He leaned back onto the bed and pulled her down on top of him, her long black hair splashing against his face.


	2. Court

The sound of metal striking metal rang out harshly in the early morning air. The courtyard was nearly deserted as the two men traded blows in the grassy field. 

Sharva had his nose deep in the palm leaf pages of a book, long used to the swordsmanship on display before him. He had been riveted as a young boy, in awe of Jacob and Adem’s skills. As he aged, Sharva’s true passions began to dominate his mind, and while he still appreciated the skill each man had, swordplay had lost its allure. 

Also in the courtyard was one of the guards who aided Jacob in protecting the prince. Tirunaut was a young man, only a few years older than the prince. He had tight, ringlet curls and pouty pink lips. He stood in an archway, straight-backed and vigilant. 

Jacob’s feet slid on wet grass. Adem slammed into his side with such force that he had to drop one hand off the hilt of his sword to keep his balance. The taller man gave Jacob no time to recover, and brought his blade down with full force. 

Excursion pulled each man’s features into a stern grimace. There was nothing in their minds but the fight, the movement of the swords and the flow of their own muscles. 

Rather than striking hard against Jacob’s weak block, Adem found himself over stretched toward his opponent. Jacob used his unsteady state to lure Adem off balance, then used his free hand to grip the other immortal’s wrist and pull him further off his center. 

Adem stumbled and Jacob’s sword was ready, but the wiry man was too fast. He regained his footing and dodged just in time, and Jacob’s sword cut empty air. 

Jacob began to suck in lungfuls of air as his heart pounded against his chest. The fight had gone on longer than usual, and Adem’s superior endurance gave him an edge. The longer their sparring matches lasted, the more likely the older immortal would win. 

Employing a reckless tactic, Jacob abandoned defending himself in favor of devesting Adem of his weapon. Instantly Adem struck a good blow in the meat of Jacob’s shoulder. If they had been fighting with real edges, Jacob’s left arm would now be useless. 

In keeping with their rules, Jacob fought as if the arm had been injured, but taking the blow had allowed him inside Adem’s guard. He upset Adem’s grip, knocking the weapon loose and shoving Adem down.

The weapon fell softly into the grass and Adem fell heavily beside it, one hand on the ground, the other up in plaintive pleading. 

“You win,” he cried.

Jacob reached a sweaty hand down to Adem to help him up. 

“Barely,” Jacob said between heavy breaths.

“Barely is enough.” Adem accepted the hand, and picked up his practice sword.

He moved gracefully once back to his feet, showing only superficial signs of wear or exhaustion. Jacob had formed an impression of the older man that was solidifying into fact in his mind - Adem never truly showed his all in a sparring match. 

All immortals fought with less zeal when they sparred, but Jacob was convinced that Adem held back even more than that. There had been a coiled nature to his muscles as he rose from the ground, something that in a true fight Jacob would use as a warning sign that his enemy was about to strike. 

Now seven years into their friendship, Jacob had stopped trying to learn more about Adem then the immortal openly shared. It was enough for Jacob that he could trust and respect a fellow immortal. 

“You should run more,” Adem said and he placed his blade in the canvas wrap waiting on a nearby stone bench.

“I run everyday.” Jacob placed his sword next to Adem’s and wrapped the cloth around them both.

“Not more often, just more. You should take days to do nothing but run.”

Jacob nodded sardonically, “Yes, and you say I should take days to do nothing but meditate. I do suspect that poets and scholars have many more free days than bodyguards.”

Voices carried out into the courtyard, followed quickly by a procession of women and young girls. At the head of the gathering was Vakani and her sister Tempavai. In their wake their companions intermingled, filling the courtyard with a soft buzz of conversation. 

“Of course, a man should also dedicate whole days to nothing but the company of a woman, from time to time.” Adem sat on the bench, stretched out like a cat in the sun.

Jacob glared down at him. 

Sharva stood and approached his sisters. 

“Is he ready?” Jacob asked as he watched his charge.

“He is. Though...” 

When Adem did not continue, Jacob turned back, one eyebrow raised. 

Adem continued, “Vakani and Sharva were born of the same mother,” Jacob nodded at this, “and the Prince wishes to remind his father of that fact.”

“Utaiyai was the Raja’s most beloved wife. He mourns her to this day.”

“He does. He loved her deeply, and holds her in high regard in every way. But, I’m afraid playing against such love in open court will make the Prince look too weak, too naive.” 

Both men watched the Prince with his sister, the love and devotion between siblings clear even without hearing their words. 

“She is a great deal like her mother.” Jacob watched Vakani as he spoke, his tone less guarded here than at other times, “Strong, intelligent, driven. And like her mother, she has high ambitions. The Raja respected all those things in his wife, yet he is ignorant of those same traits in his own daughter. I think the Prince is right to open the Raja’s eyes.”

“Your eyes are not as clear as they could be.”

Jacob turned, his focus back on his friend. Adem had said the last words in a Latin dialect, commonly spoken in eastern boarder of Frankish lands where Jacob was raised. Even those in the Raja’s palace who spoke Latin would be hard pressed to identify what these men spoke as the same language. The immortals spoke to each other in this way when they wanted to be absolutely sure they were not overheard. 

“I haven’t lost all perspective.”

“That’s what love is, a loss of perspective.”

“Ha! From you that is quite a statement. In the seven years I’ve known you, you’ve fallen in love with ten women. Yet, I’m the one who has lost perspective.”

“I never said I was clear headed,” Adem smiled wryly, “I’m obviously rather prone to a loss of perspective, which is why I’m so good at recognizing it in others.” He seemed to be done, but then quickly added, “Ten is a bit of an exaggeration, and a few of those women never did love me back.” 

Jacob sat on the bench next to Adem, but his eyes were still fixed on Vakani “I don’t know that she loves me.” 

“She doesn’t. Not in the way you love her.” 

Jacob had waited a long time to address this subject with his friend, knowing what the older man would say. Having his fear confirmed outloud, Jacob fell silent. 

“And it is not because she is mortal and you are not. It is because for her love is a thing that happens to the side of her real life. Even if it is not this lord, this treaty, her bed is too valuable a thing to be given away to a man simply because of mutual feelings.”

“That doesn’t mean she -”

“No, alone this fact means nothing. But it is a seed, planted in her mind from childhood, growing into the certain knowledge that her power rests in whose children she bares. And there is her character, the ambition you so rightly praised. She will not give her life’s devotion over to a soldier.” 

Not wanting to face these thoughts, Jacob tried to steer the conversation, “And what of the many stories you’d told about the princesses and queens you’ve seduced. More than a few of them must have loved you truly.”

“Every woman is different. That is what makes them so lovely. Each is their own puzzle, their own perfect, little mystery.”

Across the field Vakani laughed, running strands of her sister’s hair through her fingers. It was a loving gesture, but Jacob also saw it for the subtle manipulation it was. Vakani was reinforcing her dominance and control of her sister. The love and the control were not divorced from each other, they were each a part of the whole that made up Vakani’s complex actions. 

“A mystery indeed.” 

“It’s for the best. The two of you will love each other as much as you can in the time you are given. That is all anyone can ask for. And when it is over, she does not have to suffer the knowledge of what you are. She will simply part with you as she would any other lover.” 

"And what do I do when we part?"

Adam shrugged, "Whatever you must." 

“Of course, if it were you, you’d heal your wounds in the bed of another lover.”

“You make me sound like some kind of predator,” Adem sounded offended. 

Jacob said nothing, but raised an eyebrow at his friend. 

The cluster of women moved again, now on its way past the prince and through one of the archways that lined the courtyard. Many of the older women offered the prince a deep bow and a smile, while younger women blushed at him. A great majority of them were prospective brides for the prince, and like the young men who live in the palace, were eager to form good relations with him.

The prince addressed this flattery with his polite yet distant expression. His sister’s left last, each putting his hand to their foreheads before going. 

Jacob watched Vakani, but in the whole exchange she did not once turn her eyes to him. She passed under the archway and out of the sunlight.

“Come,” Jacob called across the courtyard to the prince, “you and I should make ourselves ready for court.”

He picked up the practice swords and walked toward the prince.

“Adem, will you be in court today?” Sharva asked as he approached. 

“Of course,” he did not move from the bench, “I never miss it.” 

Jacob and Sharva said their goodbyes and left the courtyard. On the way back to their apartments Sharva was very quiet. Jacob assumed the boy was thinking about court, but when the wooden doors closed behind them, Sharva turned to Jacob.

“How do you know if you like a woman?”

Jacob had been about to take off his shirt so he could wash away the sweat of the fight. He stopped with one hand on a button of his shirt, his eyebrows raised. 

“Well, I’m not sure I can answer that simply.”

Sharva removed his own clothing. The bath had already been drawn for the prince, in a copper tub that rested on the far side of the room. He continued to question Jacob as he walked toward it. 

“Is there something physical, a sensation or feeling?”

Jacob followed the prince, abandoning for the moment his own plans to bathe.

“Well, it’s very common for a boy at your age to have an uncontrolled -”

“I’m not simply talking about erections. Those seem to happen to all men for any variety of reasons.” Jacob nodded at this, a silent laugh on his lips, “I mean when you are truly drawn to a woman. When there is more than your body responding to the flesh of another body. How do you know if you actually want someone?”

The boy lowered himself in the bath, picked up a large yellow sponge and began scrubbing his arms.

Jacob thought of Vakani. “It pains you when she is not near you. Your mind dwells on her, even when you wish it would not. When she looks at you, speaks to you, it makes you feel like a better man.” 

The prince looked about to say something else, but closed his mouth and thought for a moment.

“Is there a particular woman you are thinking of?” Jacob asked.

“No. And that is the problem. I would image that by now I should have some feeling toward a woman.”

“You have not been given much time get to know -”

“I haven’t been allowed to know anyone who wasn’t hired by my father.”

The bitterness in Sharva’s voice was uncharacteristic for him. Jacob sat on one of the couches and waited for the prince to continue.

“It’s not simply that.” Sharva finally said, “I do have feelings, like what you describe, but they are all for men.”

Jacob nodded. He thought for a moment before speaking, “I see. I’ve known a few men who could never summon the feelings for a woman that they could for another man. Do you think of any man in particular?”

“When I was younger I may have felt that way about Adem, but I think I’ve outgrown it.”

“Anyone your own age? The boys of the court?”

The prince blushed at that, “Not of the court. There is a boy who works the stables, Rwilali. I fell from my horse once because I was watching him.”

Jacob smiled at that, “It’s happened to the best men.” He stood and walked toward the tub, “Are you worried that this is an unnatural attraction? If so, do not, many young men have such thoughts.”

“No, I know it is not uncommon, only,” he sighed, “I will marry a woman, I must. But I am worried about what might happen if I cannot make children with her.”

“You will,” Jacob smiled warmly, “There will be trust between you and your wife. Understanding, and maybe love. That is what will give your children, not lust.”

The prince nodded at that, “Thank you.”

“Would you like -” Jacob said the words before he knew exactly what he’d intended, he stuttered for a moment and then said, “your father has done you a disservice, keeping you away from boys and girls your own age. I’m sorry I’ve not done more to help you. I will speak to him about it, with your leave.”

Sharva did not respond right away. “Yes. I think I would like that.” 

“I can meet with him tonight, after court.”

“Thank you,” Sharva looked at his bodyguard, “You should bathe and change. My father will not tolerate your presence in court like that.”

Jacob smiled and resumed unbuttoning his shirt, “I’ll be in my rooms if you need me.” 

\----

Three sides of the Raja’s court were open windows, draped in the blue and yellow colors of the Rashtrakuta’s. The silk fluttered back and forth in the weak breeze. Now past noon, the day grew hotter by the minute. Wooden benches lined either side of the hall, and were filled with a tight crowd. Many were painted in makeup that had started to run as they waited for the Raja to emerge. 

On many occasions Jacob had helped prepare the Raja for his appearance in court - briefing him on the issues that would be raised, working with the other advisers to guide his declarations, but today he waited on a wooden bench, next to Adem.

He tapped his feet nervously, not comfortable being so far from Sharva is such a large crowd. The boy was across the room, where those addressing the Raja waited in the order assigned to them by the Clerk. It was Sharva’s idea to arrive in court unaccompanied by his bodyguard. Jacob was happy that the boy understood the importance of asserting his independence, but he knew with the current strife in the north, the court was not guaranteed to be a safe place. 

Sharva stood next to his brother. Aside from their few similarities, the same small ears, the same dark eyes, one would not know they were related, let alone siblings. The two ignored each other. Sharva stood with his hands behind his back, his eyes fixed on the throne where the Raja would sit. Pratih had his back to his brother and was addressing an older man who sat a few paces away on a bench. 

Vakani sat on a bench not far from the Raja’s thrown. Three attendants sat with her, and all four women were vailed. Vakani’s vail was the blue and yellow of the house. 

A door on the side of the chamber opened and three attendants emerged. Two held between them a role of red cloth that unfurled as they went. The third followed behind, careful to not step on the cloth as he straightened it. Next came out four of the Raja’s ministers, in order of their rank. Jacob scowled to see Iliriua Giliabarta was not among them. Giliabarta was minister of the northernmost provenance, and his absence in court spoke ill of the negotiations in the north. 

The men flanked the throne, two on each side. They did not have chairs or a bench, but were made to stand when in the court of the Raja. 

Next out of the doors was a priestess of Saraswati, who walked to the throne and sprinkled it with a white powder. When she was done she walked back across the drawn cloth, sprinkling white powder as she went.

Then came the Raja, unaccompanied. He wore many layers of rich cloth, all in the house colors. His face and beard were painted and not yet running from the heat. The white powder left by the priestess stuck to his feet and robes as he walked. He bowed to his ministers as he passed them, then ascended his throne. 

Once the Raja was seated another man came from the door. The Clerk’s face was painted much like the Raja’s though not as elaborately. He walked to the side of the Raja and held up a palm leaf parchment. He recited the blessings of the court, asking various gods to give guidance to the holy Raja, then read the list of petitioners. First each minister would bring their concerns from the provenances. This lasted well over an hour while the Raja heard them and considered what they had said.

Today the topic was universally the north. Some worried about the drain on stored supplies a conflict in the north would mean. Some worried that trade from outside the empire was hindered by the conflict. The Raja spoke sparingly, and only to make pronouncements. When the ministers had finished the Clerk directed the first waiting in line to come forward and address the Raja. 

While those on the wooden benches were shifting with sore muscles and fanning themselves in the heat, the Raja sat stonelike. Small beads of sweat cutting through his makeup were the only signs his body might be in discomfort. 

Those first in line spoke of concerns in the capital city. There was an ongoing dispute at the border of the city about how water should be taken from the river. So far the city administration had dealt with it, but the parties involved would not tolerate the suggested solutions. The Raja listened, seeming unmoved by the arguments presented. His silence drove one man to speak overly long about his claim to the water. When he realized he’d been rambling in front of the open court his face flushed red and he took a few step back from the throne.

“Are lives or the livelihoods of your families at stake?” The Raja asked. 

“I have just said -” the man began, but was cut off.

“You have brought me a list of grievances, but in none of it do I see a true risk to your life or the lives of those you care for. Why do you take the court’s time with this?”

“I... the city officials told me that an audience with you might help sort out these -”

“Clerk, please inform Elerona Regelokira that he will be called to the next court. He will be made to answer why he sends citizens here rather performing his duty. You both,” he lifted his finger, pointing at each of the petitioners in turn, “will not come to my court for matters of such little consequence again. War threatens our boarders, and you can not agree on something as small as the this? If you can not find resolution between yourselves, then my city planners will come and decide how best the city can use the water, leaving both your fields dry.”

Adem sighed. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he seemed barely attentive to the throne, but Jacob saw muscles tense in the immortal’s legs and neck. 

“Where does his hostility come from?” Jacob asked, “I’ve never seen him address a citizen this way.”

“You haven’t been to court in weeks. This is commonplace now.”

“It can’t be the stress of the rebellions, can it? The wars he fought to take those lands were a greater strain than this unrest.”

Adem shook his head, “I fear it’s something deeper. He has no patience with anything. I need to talk to his physicians.”

Another petitioner came forward, a White Clade Jain. The man bowed his shaved head to the Raja and lifted the white cloth from his face. 

The man spoke in a voice so quiet that those in the back of the hall would be unable to hear him. As it was, Jacob had to strain to hear.

“I have come to ask the Raja to keep the value of life foremost in his mind at this uncertain time.”

The Raja’s expression did not change, and Jacob wondered if he was unable to hear the Jain’s soft voice. But after a moment his eyes drifted to the Clerk, and remained there as the Jain spoke. 

“My Order offers our service to the Raja as advisers of peace. We wish to help preserve life in our kingdom.”

“I have my own advisers, religious and secular,” after the hushed Jain, the Raja’s voice boomed across the room, startling some. “There are Jains among my staff. I have no need of this offer.”

The Jain bowed.

“Furthermore,” the Raja continued, “I will no longer tolerate unsolicited advice from your Order, or any other in my court. If you wish to have a voice in policy, you must address my advisers directly, not abuse this forum.”

“You were right,” Jacob said, “the prince cannot use Utaiyai in his arguments. He attacks a priest for coming to open court? He is not open to emotional persuasion.When the prince speaks, the Raja will only hear a young boy talking about his mother. He is not like this with his advisers, what plagues him?”

Adem did not respond. 

Jacob shifted on the bench, trying to catch the prince’s eye. The boy’s back was still to him, and even if he turned, it was not as if he could call to Sharva across the court.

“Let’s hope the prince can see the Raja’s mood as well as you can.” Adem said. 

The Jain seemed unbothered by the Raja’s harsh words. He only bowed again and covered his face once more. As he left, Sharva bowed deeply to him, as did some of the others in the petitioners line. 

Sharva was next, and stepped forward. Jacob took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly through his nose. The boy stood tall, but his nobel posture could not mask the fact that he still had the frame of a child. His thin limbs and narrow waist made him look almost birdlike as he approached the throne. He came much closer than the other petitioners had. 

“Prince Sharva Nrupathunga Rashtrakuta, fourth son of Govinda,” the clerk said. 

Patches of dark tan skin were now visible where sweat had washed away the color on the Raja’s face. The yellow paint that ran down stained the collar of his shirt. 

“My Raja, great Govinda the third,” Sharva began, “I come to warn your people of a great crime being committed in this capital. A theft of one of our greatest resources at a time we are most in need.” 

The tension Adem had been hiding slipped finally onto his expression. He clenched his jaw tightly and leaned forward on the bench.

“That isn’t how we practiced it,” he whispered, staring at the back of the prince’s head, “I mean, we were going to speak of it as a theft, but -” he trailed off as the prince continued.

“We are tasked, all of your house, to guard and protect our lands. Yet one of our number is being traded away to the South for little more than kind words.”

It was hard to tell what Vakari thought, with only the thin slit of her eyes showing. She made no outward sign of movement. Jacob watched between her and the prince as the young man spoke. 

“Only one of your children has lived and studied along the Ganges, and is welcomed there by the Eastern courts. Only one of your children dedicated their studies to Muslim trade routes and the effect they have on our supply of horses and textiles. The Princess Vakari, your eldest daughter, first born to Utaiyai has been given the education and training befitting a leader. This planned marriage is unfit for her.”

Sharva stepped further forward and took his hands out from behind his back. 

“But its intentions are noble. We are threatened from the north, we can not afford unrest in the south. One of our house must have a place there must serve as your eyes and carry out your will.”

The Raja leaned forward slightly, though his expression did not change.

Adem nodded, “Now this is what we rehearsed. He has done well, he has met the Raja with a challenging tone, yet presented him with no facts he can argue. I didn’t know the prince was so good at improvising.” 

“Your daughter Tempavai ,” Sharva did not gesture to her, but a slight turn of his head guided the Raja’s eyes to where he daughters sat, “is ready to learn the ways of another ruler’s court. She is devoted to you,” on the bench Tempavai, far to the left of her elder sister, nodded at the Raja, and touched her fingertips to her head, “She can be your key to the south. Send her, and your sister Kritira to mentor her. Then your eldest daughter will be free to use her skills and knowledge to help our efforts to keep peace in the north.”

Sharva bowed and kept his head lowered, waiting for the Raja to answer. 

“I will not make my decision now. But you cut to the heart of the matter with your request. I do not intend to waste the talents of any of my children,” the Raja nodded, “We will speak of this issue more once court is dismissed.” 

Sharva rose and walked through the hall. He did not make for Adem or Jacob, but for a bench near the throne where he would still be in full view of most in the hall. 

“As good as we could have hoped for,” Jacob said.

He relaxed his posture some. His gaze came to rest overlong on Vakari - she was whispering to the woman next to her, and Jacob tried to read the woman’s expression. 

“Prince Pratih Upanavala Rashtrakuta, second son of Govinda,” the clerk announced. 

“Great Govinda,” at Pratih’s words, Jacob’s gaze was drawn back to the proceedings, “I have come to speak of military matters. Our people and our lands are threatened. Your court has been consumed by this conflict.”

Pratih was tall, with straight, muscular limbs. He wore wrapping that mirrored the Raja’s. Rather than stay in one place before the throne, he walked first to one side, then the other, making the Raja’s gaze follow him as he spoke.

“Negotiation are ongoing, but despite all efforts on the part of your skilled representatives, the North refuses to relent. Such unrest, on the heels of the eastern conflicts, can not be allowed to flourish.”

A sour frown formed on Jacob’s face. For weeks the Raja’s counselors had been debating this issue. To hear it treated so simply before the open court might give the impression the Prince, and by extension the Raja, was not taking into account the fullness of the situation. 

“We could spend more months in negotiations over this issue, drag the grievances of dozens of petty tribes and clans out before your throne to be judged, but the longer that process continues, the more the people will suffer.” 

He walked farther from the throne now, approaching where Sharva still sat on the bench, “As my brother the prince has so eloquently put it, we, the Rashtrakuta’s are all tasked with the protection of this land. I ask now that I be allowed to do just that. Words and threats and monetary punishments have not brought the North in line. Let me lead a full march of your armies, as we did in the East. The land is ours, and we must show the North we control it.”

“You would lead my soldiers in battle? Fight the threat of violence with true violence?”

“I propose no battles, only a show of force.”

Adem scoffed loud enough some heads around them turned. He leaned into Jacob and whispered, “When a man says he wishes to show his strength, he means truly he wishes to prove his strength.”

“If the Raja allows him to lead a march, it will be seen as indication he will name Pratih his successor,” Jacob whispered back.

“It will be seen that way, but it will not be so. The Raja values much more than military prowess in his government.” 

There was a silence in the court that stifled any further exchange between the two immortals. Jacob’s own mood did not add to the air of suspense, the Raja did not make military decisions in the court. Such matters were decided at a council of advisers, and announced by official proclamation. Pratih had spoke in court only to make a public claim to the march, to show the people that the Raja had not picked him to lead, that he had proposed it himself.

“This Empire will no longer tolerate unrest and rebellion.” The Raja’s words echoed in the quiet room, “The Northern provenances have proven their disloyalty and insincerity at the negotiation table.”

“What is he doing?” Jacob asked Adem. 

The other man only shook his head.

“You will take fifteen thousand of my soldiers north. You will be joined by your cousin Karka Suvarnavarsha. He will bring another ten thousand from the west.”

Murmurs spread through the room in waves, crashing over each other so that even the Raja’s resonate voice was drowned out as he spoke again.

“Clerk, move all other petitioners to the next court date. I am finished here today, and must meet with my council.” 

As he stood to leave, the ministers looked to each other in confusion, unsure for a moment if they should follow. When the Raja was through the door, they quickly hurried after. 

Jacob stood and pushed through the now scattering crowd. People milled about in confusion. He made his way out, shouldering past a cluster of merchants who’d been in front row. Finally he reached Sharva.

“Come, stand, we’re going to follow them,” he turned from the prince to the door, where Pratih had just vanished behind the ministers. 

“I’m not -”

“We will attend this council meeting. The Raja took you on the last march, he intends you to learn these matters. But you must be in the council now to have influence over this march.”

Sharva swallowed hard, and Jacob found himself wishing the boy had spent more time practicing his stoic facade. 

“Yes,” Sharva nodded, “just one moment.”

He jogged a few paces to where his sisters still sat. Jacob followed behind, but kept his eyes on door to the Raja’s counsel room. Adem joined them, having navigated the crowd. 

“You’ll come?” Jacob asked.

Adem nodded.

“Vakari,” Sharva stood before his sister, and nodded his head, “I’ll make sure the Raja does not forget his promise to reconsider your betrothal. Conflict in the north will not stop the rest of this Empire from functioning.” 

She nodded to him, but said nothing. 

“Let’s go,” Sharva said, leading Jacob and Adem to the door.


	3. Plans

Two incense holders burned in the room, one on either side of the great table. Prince Pratih stood behind his father, arms crossed. 

An attendant crouched beside the Raja, wiping away the makeup with a damp rag. The Raja sat hunched in his chair, letting his oldest son’s words wash over him. 

“ - supplies ready at the border, so we will not be delayed by -”

“No!” a minister slapped his hand on the table, “Orders cannot be issued until this is discussed.” 

“The order has been given,” the Raja pushed the attendant away. The rag smacked against the table, staining the wood yellow. Eyes lowered, remaining unobtrusive to the conversation, the attendant tried to wash it away. 

“There has been enough discussion,” Pratih unfolded his arms and put them on his waist, turning to the minister, “Riders have already been sent to my cousin, Karka.”

None had taken their seats but the Raja. The ministers loomed over their chairs, some leaning down as if to catch the Raja’s eye, but he only stared across the room blankly. 

“Already sent?” Jacob asked as he came to stand across the table from the prince, “Did you send them before court had even begun?”

“I had men at the ready,” the prince looked to him, his face pulled into a scowl, “should the Raja have need of them.”

“Food is already rationed in two provenances between here and Dhar. What are the people supposed to do when an army marches through and strips their supplies further?” It was Harsha Khotha, minister of three western provenances.

“Marching orders are issued to the men and to the supply chains in tandem. Soon supplies will pour in from all parts of my father’s empire for our men.”

Sharva came to rest standing beside Jacob, directly in front of the Raja, “Such efficiency to keep soldiers feed, one wonders if the same techniques could have been used to prevent the shortages in the first place.” 

The Raja’s gaze sharpened, focusing on his youngest son. Upon seeing him in the council room, the Raja turned his head around, taking in each man. Makeup still smeared his face, and his typically stoic expression betray a moment of confusion.

“No people in the empire were starving,” Pratih said to Sharva, “and our men must be ready for battle.”

“I thought this was only a show of force,” Sharva countered.

“A show worth nothing if they can not support it with action when necessary,” Pratih gave his brother a stern gaze.

“You are wrong,” Adem said, his subdued tone in contrast to the anxious air in the room. Few had noticed him enter before he spoke, and he was met with annoyed glances as he perched on the edge of the table, “Hundreds starve in the empire, maybe more. Just in this city I’m sure it would take a search of a few minutes to locate a starving man.” 

“We are not here to debate hunger or poverty,” Pratih looked around as if for support, “we are discussing preparations for the march.” 

“One should not overshadow the other,” the Raja spoke, looking at Sharva again, his eyes now more clear, “The cost of securing our borders should never be the welfare of our people,” he took a deep breath, one that seemed to move painfully through his frame, “I will be staying in the capital to see to the larger wellbeing of our people. I trust Pratih to lead this march. ”

“I will ride with you brother, as we did in the east.” Sharva’s stoic face was better than it had been before they’d entered the room. Whatever feelings he held inside made no ripple in his expression.

Now I am the one who could give the game away, Jacob thought. He kept his eyes on Pratih and the Raja, not allowing a sideways glance to Sharva to betray his surprise at the boy’s resolve. 

“Of course. We shall fight for our family and father,” Partih’s returned a nod to his brother. 

“Kalin, you will prepare your men to travel with my son,” the Raja did not look at Jacob as he spoke, but still watched Sharva. 

“As you command, my Raja,” Jacob incline his head.

“And you will command the third pillar of troops.” 

The room was silent as all took in the Raja’s words. Most, including Jacob, gazed at the Raja confused. 

The army marched, divided into four pillars of men. The first two were the professionally trained soldiers who made up the standing army, the second two, the men called into conscription by the announcement of the march. Pratih, at the head of the march, would command the first pillar, and the leadership of the other three would customarily go to high ranking generals or members of the royal family. 

“Sir, I currently hold no rank outside your militia -”

“You’ve lead my men in the northern fields before, you will do it again,” His makeup had continued to run, the whole top of his shirt now stained an unflattering green as the blue and yellow paints mixed, the servant had since left, so no one helped clear his face, “And you, Sharva, will study with him. Your tutelage on military matters has been, thus far, lacking. You will learn how to command men.”

Sharva nodded, but said nothing. 

The Raja stood, his fists pressed hard into the table for support, knuckles turning white, “Karka will command the second pillar, and Genral Buhtari the fourth. Pratih,” he turned, putting one hand on the side of his son’s face. It trembled slightly,“I leave you the preparations, I must retire.” 

Pratih nodded, his eyes locked with his father's. 

Govinda dropped his hand and lifted his heavy robes, turning to leave.

“My Raja, if I may escort you back,” Adem was at his side, across the room like a cat before any of the Raja’s attendants could move.

“Yes, Adem, thank you.” 

Pratih sat, folding his hands in front of him. “Please, let us get to work, there are many plans to be made.”

Sharva watched his father leave, one arm held out to Adem for support almost as soon as he was out of the door. Sharva’s stoic facade fell long enough for a worried scowl to twist his features before he turned again to his brother.

“Shouldn’t General Buhtari be here?”

“Word has been sent, he will join us soon.” 

Sharva nodded and sat. Jacob took the seat next to him, his mind still working to believe he’d been handed command of the third pillar. 

“So that is all. We are at war with the North,” Khotha said as he slumped in his chair.

“Only if they do not submit,” Pratih said.

“Then it is war, my prince” Jacob said to Pratih, “The Raja’s army bled heavily when we took those lands a decade ago, but our wounds were nothing next to what the northerners suffered to keep us out. This will not be as it was in the east, they will not be intimidated to see your soldiers march over the horizon.” 

“That will be their error, because we will not relinquish my father’s lands.” 

\--

“Adem, really, I have much to do, if this isn’t going to happen -” 

“You will get a chance to say goodbye to Vikari before we march,” the elder immortal strode with one hand on the hilt of his sword as they made their way through the market, “And Rwrita will be waiting for us.”

Jacob followed after, trying to match Adem’s long, quick strides.

The streets of the capital remained relatively unchanged since the announcement of the march. The only real sign of an impending conflict was the addition of new tokens and babbles to the charms being sold by mystics. Claims of protection from harm, or blessings on loved ones were shouted out into the street, and many took the holy men up on their offers of protection.

Jacob scowled at one such exchange as they passed, a young woman being talked into purchasing three more charms that what she’d originally ask for. 

“If the gods are real, then someone should ask them why such practices are the best way to curry their favor.”

“That is the advantage of these gods to the one all powerful god the West seems to prefer,” Adem turned a corner and Jacob followed after, “They don’t need to make excuses. They are free to be petty, greedy, malice, and unjust, and it upsets no one's theology.”

“So they are just as vile as the humans who worship them,” Jacob’s scowl deepened. 

“And just as kind, loving, charitably, and caring.”

They reached a small building with an awning over a coal pit, where meat roasted on long sticks. Adem purchased a few, then took a seat in wicker chairs that had been set up some distance from the heat of the coals. 

“She is not here,” Jacob said, directing a pointed look to Adem.

“She will be,” he handed two still dripping kabobs to Jacob, “Besides, we were having an interesting conversation. You so rarely want to talk about esoteric matters.”

“And today is no exception, you lured me into it. All I wanted to do was berate that charlatan selling junk as if it were holy.”

He accepted the food, but did not settle into a chair. 

“The other major difference,” Adem said, taking the moment Jacob spent chewing to continue with his topic, “is that in the West, pain and death are a punishment visited on man because of our sin. But here, they are an accepted part of life, something to be taken as part of the whole, and respected in their own ways.”

“There are Christians who adore the pain God has wrought on them. They flagellate themselves and cherish the pain.”

Adem nodded, “True. Just like everything else in life, they see it as a gift from their creator. But here pain and pleasure both are seen on a balance. They are to be respected, understood, and one day, left behind.”

“You sound like the Jain tutors who have so occupied Sharva’s time,” Jacob finally sat, and watched a small crowd pass by them. 

“I think Sharva would do well to learn from the Jain philosophies. Respect for life, for peace, is essential to true leadership.” 

“So long as it does not stop him from acting when needed. The abandonment of physical attachment is a noble endeavor when you are a priest, but he has other concerns.” 

“There are Jain soldiers, warriors, even Jain thieves and killers. Jesus taught men to turn the other cheek, and yet many of his followers have a decidedly different view of justice. Men will do as they will with the philosophies they are given.”

Jacob sighed, “Rwrita is still not here. We march in two days, and I have other appointments -” Adem opened his mouth to say something, but Jacob cut him off with a stern gesture, “And this is not simply about Vakari, I have preparations to make. The third pillar, Adam, he’s put me in charge of the third pillar. I’ve never lead an army before,” he scoffed, and started on the second kabob. 

“And you still haven’t. Pratih will command the army, you will serve him.” 

“It should be Sharva at the head of the third pillar, not me.”

“He is too young.”

“Not if the Raja truly thinks him a contender for his throne. No, as I said in court, this is proof he will name Pratih.”

“Or Karka,” Adem added, “The Raja has a great love for his nephew.” 

“But he will not name Sharva.”

Adem shook his head, “Yes, because you were, I’m sure, chosen at random for this duty” he raised a skeptical eyebrow at his own words, “How many other men with ranks higher than yours fought in the last Northern war?”

“Many.”

“And the only thing that makes you stand out from them?”

Jacob look at him, eyes narrow, “Appointing me to the pillar is about Sharva.”

“I’m surprised the Raja has not told you this himself.”

“The Raja has not consented to see me since the proclamation. Has he spoken to you of this?” Jacob shifted in his seat, truly thinking about it now. In the days since the announcement he’d been too consumed with the practicalities to consider the politics. 

“No. Unfortunately the Raja keeps too much to himself these days, but it is the only logical answer, and one I’m sure Pratih has already reached. Sharva is a child who's never seen battle, to give him command over real soldiers is an insult -”

“One many kings and raja’s would gladly suffer upon their people to show favor to a child.”

“You and and both respect the Raja because he is not that kind of king. No, you, the soldier, will lead, but Sharva will be with you for every choice.”

As he thought he realized Sharva had already come to this conclusion, putting himself at the table when Jacob planned the marching orders, and not hesitating to speak in a room of high ranking men.

His contemplations were interrupted by the familiar buzz of another immortal.

“Told you she’d be here,” Adam smiled. 

Jacob licked the juices off his fingers then wiped them on his pants. From around the corner, a short, grey haired woman appeared, supporting herself on a large walking stick. Her dark brown skin was heavily wrinkled around her eyes and mouth. She moved smoothly, despite her bent posture and walking stick.

Adem stood to greet her as she came near, taking her arm in a firm grip, and lowering his head to the back of her palm. It was not a typical gesture in the Raja’s kingdom, but none of the gathered immortals were natives of this land.

“Kalin,” Rwrita nodded down to him, “you do not stand to greet your elders?” 

He smiled up at her, “I find I have so few of them these days that I’ve completely lost the habit.”

“Hmpf,” she chided him with her finger, “such insolence from a child like you.”

“Isn’t it the way of youth to think they know it all?” Adem smiled.

“As you may have heard, Rwrita, I have many things to concern me now,” Jacob stood, laying one hand softly across hers, “I hate to be further rude to you, but my time is limited.”

“Then I’ll say what I know, and let you be on your way. First though,” she tilted her head to the vendor still cooking his wares, “buy me some meat.”

Jacob led her to a chair while Adem purchased two more kabobs. The sun passed out from a cloud that had been obscuring it. Though in the alley they were still in the shadow of buildings, the air was noticeably hotter in a matter of moments. 

“Now it’s my turn to be rude, Kalin, but Adem did say he would come alone.”

Jacob raised his eyebrow at Adem when he returned, “Did you,” he asked Rwrita, though his eyes were on Adem as the older man sat and handed a kabob to Rwrita, “He did not mention that.”

“So like you Adem, your mouth rattles on nonsense, while you choose to omit the important details.”

Though he knew her age was well over seven hundred, there was often a sparkle in Rwrita’s eyes that reminded him of a woman just out of childhood. Something that looked like it belonged to a girl sneaking off to meet a lover, rather than to an old woman bent over a walking stick.

“I feared the gravity of your news, and thought I might need a friend to console me.” Adem’s face twisted into a mockery of sadness.

She stared at him levely, “Well, since you wasted Kalin’s time bringing him here, he might as well know it all,” she took small bites from the meat as she spoke, picking like a bird, “You should know, you are not the only immortals who will be on the field in this ill advised conflict in the north.” 

“No other immortals serve in the Raja’s military, that I know of. Is there one in Karka’s court?” Jacob asked.

“No,” Adem said, “She means there will be an immortal from the Northern Provenances there,” his mocking expression slipped into a downcast stare.

“Two others - a women, I don’t think either of you know, Ittirat, very young, younger than you, Kalin.”

“That is becoming more common as I grow older.”

“One day the scale will tip the other way, and you’ll be surrounded by nothing but children,” Rwrita smiled.

“The other?” Adem asked, his tone more serious than the other two.

“Ittirat’s lover, a man you know,” she glanced at him, then back down to her kabob, “Malipita. He has spent the last five years as a general in service to the provincial lords.”

Jacob thought over the name. He’d known all the northern generals during the Raja’s northern advance over a decade ago. That name was not among them, but it was familiar none the less. 

“Isn’t he some sort of pirate? A raider?” he asked Rwrita, “I remember something about a bounty connected to that name.”

This time her look to Adem lingered, watching him for his response, “He was. He lead a band of men. They attacked caravans, raided villages, kidnapped women and sold them into slavery.”

“Why would Giliabarta allow such a man rank in his army?” Jacob asked. 

“Because he is very good at what he does,” Adem said, “He is a skilled fighter and an accomplished leader. His methods are brutal, but he rarely loses.” 

“How do you know him?” Jacob leaned back in his chair, taking in his friend’s posture. There was an uncharacteristic stiffness to him. 

“We have a long history, but the most recent and relevant part of it is all animosity and bloodshed.”

“Who’s blood?” It was rarely any use trying to pry answers out of Adem when he was so guarded, but gentle nudging might not be met with too much resistance. 

“Thank you for the warning,” Adem said to Rwrita, “How did you hear this?”

Jacob let his question go unanswered, watching between the two older immortals.

“Irrirat was my student. She’d heard a rumor about immortals in the Raja’s court, and wanted to know if they were true.”

“Does she know you’ve told us? Does Malipita know?”

She shrugged at Adem,“I told her I knew a man, a scholar in the Raja’s estate, was immortal, and another in the family guard,” she looked to Jacob, “But did not tell her names.”

“Do you know how they might affect this march?” Jacob asked, “Will they have sway over the lords?”

“Irrirat is an adviser to Giliabarta, and Malipita his general, so they will have much sway. Irrirat has no love for your Raja. His armies devastated her home in their advance north.”

“Malipita has no agendas,” Adem said, “He will do whatever he is ordered, as long as it suits him.”

By now the shadows were getting smaller, even in the alley. The air grew hotter as the sun climbed higher. 

“If that is what we need to know, then I must be going,” Jacob sat up in his chair, “The conscripted men are waiting for a final inspection before tomorrow.”

“That is all. I would have put it in a letter, but with war in the horizon, letters are too often read by unintended eyes. Our business is best done face to face.”

“Thank you Rwrita,” Adem stood, and Jacob stood with him, “I appreciate your warning.”

“One last thing,” she said to them, looking up, both hands resting on her walking stick, “What is between you and Malipita, that is your business, Adem, but Irrirat is another matter. She was my student, and I train my students well. You’d be unwise to cross her, either of you.”

Both men nodded, bowed to her in farewell, and departed. 

They were silent all the way back to the estate. Jacob did not try to strike up conversation with Adem, the other man was clearly deep inside his own thoughts. They passed the guards, and Jacob followed Adem to the scholar’s quarters. 

“Thank you, I know you are busy today.” Adem said at the door of his rooms, “I should not need any more of your time before the march.”

“Why did you want me there?” 

Adem moved into his room, going to a short desk and pulling out a few books. He did not answer, but crossed the room again, tucking the books into a crate. One of Sharva’s two tutors who would travel with the march, he had nearly packed all the texts he planned to carry north. 

“Did you know what she would say?” Jacob asked, walking further into the room.

“I suspected. It would have had to be immortal business, and Malipita has been often in the north.”

“Why not just tell me? Why drag me to your meeting?”

Adem lowered himself slowly into a chair. He took in a long breath, and when he exhaled his frame was different than before. It was, as if for a moment, the weight of his years was there, pressing him down. They were many years, Jacob knew, more than Adem would ever plainly say. 

“As Rwrita said, I am terrible at saying the important things.”

“What is between you and this Malipita?”

“As I said, blood -”

“Yes, and animosity,” Jacob uncrossed his arms and walked to Adem, putting one hand on his shoulder, “and if that’s all you want to tell me, I’ll leave it alone. But you asked me to come.”

Even as they talked, Jacob’s mind tracked how late the day had gotten. He had to visit the conscripted men before evening, and if that was not done soon, it would leave him little time before Vakani would return to her apartments. But he did not pull away from his friend, or make indication of his impatience. He had few true friends, and aside from Adem, none were immortals. 

“It is a long story, and one I’m not eager to tell. You have other concerns today.”

Jacob sat across from him and rested his elbows on his knees. 

Adem smiled at him, “I wanted you to know, there is an immortal, a man who will want my head,” he shook his head, “This is more than the game, he will want me dead.”

“You don’t have to come, Sharva does not so badly need his geography lessons.”

Adem laughed, “Oh, I did consider it,” he looked at Jacob for a long moment, seeming to weigh something in his mind. He reached out and put a hand on Jacob’s, “But if Malipita is there, it might not be just my geography tutelage that is needed. I know his strategies.”

Jacob nodded, “I always appreciate your consul.” 

“Good, then I’ll come,” Adem gave Jacob’s hand a few quick pats, the he stood, “You should go. I’m sorry to have delayed you so long.”

Jacob nodded a goodbye. By the time he’d reached the fields were the conscripted men waited, he’d almost cleared his mind of immortal matters. There were too many choices to make, and too many orders to give, to worry overlong on the feuds between immortals.


	4. The Rashtrakutas

Jacob’s voice was hoarse from shouting orders all day, and his fingers were stained with ink from writing. The sun was already below the horizon before he’d issued his final orders lieutenants, he still had to work with Catti to finalize the orders for Sharva’s personal guard.

As he walked the stone halls toward his office his thoughts were already passed Catti to the meeting he knew waited after. Vakari had planned to meet him in his apartments at dusk, which was now turning rapidly into night. He hoped she would wait for him, but knew she had her own preparations to make. 

Govinda had ordered his daughters, Vakari and Tempavai both, south to Kanchipuram where Varkari was, at least for the time, still promised in marriage. 

Voices carried out into the hallway as Jacob approached his office. He creased his brow, surprised anyone but Catti was working so late. Outside the door one of the prince’s guards, Tirunaut stood stiffly. Jacob stopped to speak to him.

“Sharva is here?”

Tirunaut nodded, “He has been waiting for you.”

“I see,” Jacob nodded in return, “Have we finished with his packing?

“Yes sir, his attendants finished this afternoon, we were able to secure it all, his cloths and travel supplies are with the main body now.”

He put a hand on the guard's shoulder, “And yourself? Have you had time to see to your own needs?”

“Yes, sir,” Tirunaut’s lip turned up in a small smile, “I’ve addressed my obligations.” 

“Then you are well ahead of me. Please, return to the apartments, I’ll shepherd Sharva there shortly.” 

“Sir,” he nodded again and left. 

Inside the room Catti sat in her chair, arms crossed, brows raised in a skeptical expression. The small window in the wall let in no light only three small candles burned, two on shelves, one on her desk. 

“Jacob!” Sharva stood in front of Catti’s desk, leaning so one hand rested on the wood surface, and turned when his bodyguard entered,“I thought I heard you out there.”

“My price, I’m sorry if I’ve kept you waiting,” he bowed his head, “I did not know you wished to see me.”

Sharva waved his hand, “I am in no hurry, I’ve only just finished with my brother.”

Jacob raised his brow in a look that now closely matched Catti’s, “I see, I thought that would have been done this afternoon. It should not have taken too long to tour his troops.”

“It did not,” there was a spark in Sharva’s eyes, and as Jacob inspected the boy more closely he saw an energetic spring in his movements that was very out of place so late after so long a day, “He and I meet privately after, we spoke for a long time.”

“Ah, I see.”

Jacob saw the spark in context now, saw it as the adoration a boy had for his older brother. Jacob’s own brother was only a memory now, a memory of blond hair and hazel eyes that used to crinkle when he laughed. Jacob had been close to his brother, closer than to anyone in his family. He looked at Sharva, considering that a closeness like that never really had a chance to grow in the shadow of a man like Govinda. 

“Pratih has given our prince many ideas,” Catti said, her tone level.

“I am not suggesting we do exactly as Pratih advices,” Sharva said to her.

“And what does your brother advice?” Jaocb asked.

“We talked about many things,” Sharva smiled, “but chief among them was how my guard might approach their duties during the march and while we are in the north.”

“I have already told the prince that if his brother has questions about how we protect our charge, he should bring these concerns to you,” Catti said, her tone less level now.

Jacob looked to her, not scolding, yet, but she had to be aware she was approaching an inappropriate tone to use with the prince. Catti only looked at Jacob, still skeptical. 

“No,” Sharva said, “it was not like that Catti, Pratih does not criticise my guard or you, Jacob,” he turned to his bodyguard, “It was more about how I might comport myself in battle.”

Jacob crossed his arms, “So with you Pratih admits a show of force alone will not end this conflict. And with his men still gives lip service to the notion that this will be a peaceful march.”

“My brother is worried for me, worried how it might be perceived if I am surrounded by guard while on the field.”

Jacob glanced to Catti, but his gaze was draw to the candle behind her, growing smaller as they spoke. He sighed.

“My prince, this is a conversation -”

“Jacob, I have more to say first, please,” the prince held out his hand, and Jacob held his tongue, “I am not by brother, I do not have his passions in life. I will never be the soldier he is, but no matter how I serve this empire, I will one day be expected to command men. You know soldiers, Jacob, will I ever earn their respect if I have never seen conflict?”

Jacob shook his head.

“I do not naively take my brother’s advice. He suggests more than just removing my guard, he said I would benefit from formerly joining the first pillar, join the ranks of the army.”

“His pillar, “Jacob said.

“Yes,” Sharva nodded, his eyes sparkling with candle light, “I understand what he offers me. His advice is sound, I am too old to be shielded wherever I go,” Jacob’s back bristled at that, but he said nothing, “But with this advice he offers something that serves his good more than mine. It would help me to be on the field, but help him more to be my commander. Once the men see me follow his command, they will know he has authority over me.”

“Yes,” Jacob said.

“I do believe it is time, Jacob, for me to shed some of my guard. I am so sorry to change our plans so late, that is why I came to Catti first, to see what can be done.”

“The men will be put to use elsewhere if they are not on your guard,” Catti said.

Sharva smiled at her, “I’m sure they will. And Jacob, I would like to work more formally with the men of the third pillar. Put me under one of your lieutenants. I will take orders and follow them, and I will be a part of the.”

Jacob sucked in a breath. As he looked at Sharva he saw the parts of the boy’s form that hinted to the man he was growing into - arms and legs so long and narrow, a firmness in his jaw that, it seemed, had not been there even a few days before. 

“As you say, my prince.” 

“Good,” Shava stepped away from the table, “Catti, again, I am sorry, this is more work for you tonight.”

“I am here to serve you, my prince.” 

“Do you have anything that needs my attention?” Jacob asked Catti.

“No, only this matter, and it seems resolved.”

He nodded to her, and Jacob and the prince left her to her papers and candles. 

They were silent as the walked through the halls until the stairway that lead to the royal apartments. As he mounted the steps just in front of Jacob, Sharva turned his head back to speak. 

“Jacob, can we speak more when we return to my room? There are few things I’d like to speak about before tomorrow. I know your day had been long, it’s only... a small thing.”

Jacob hesitated a few seconds as he wondered if Vakari would still be waiting for him. 

“Of course, my prince.”

Sharva waiting for Jacob at the top of the steps and smiled at him, “I feel like we have not talked these last few days as we usually do.”

Jacob smiled at that, some of the fog of his exhaustion lifting.

“You are right, there has been far too much to do,” he said as they rounded the corner to Sharva’s rooms.

Their conversation stopped as they both noticed a figure waiting outside the apartment doors. The man wore a yellow sash, the mark of his status as servant of Govinda. He bowed to them as the approached. 

“Does my father have a message for me?” Sharva asked.

“No my price. The Raja has summoned Commander Kalin for an audience this evening.” 

Only Jacob and the servant were there to see how fully Sharva dropped his stoic face, disappointment so bare the boy looked wounded.

“So late?” Jacob asked.

“He did not wish to interrupt your preparations with your men.”

“We will finished our conversation when you return,” Sharva put a hand on his shoulder, his expression mostly recovered, though Jacob still saw a jealous longing in his eyes. 

“I’ve been asked to escort you directly to his quarters,” the messenger said.

Jacob sighed heavily and put his hand over Sharva’s for a moment, “Don’t stay up too long waiting, we will leave almost at dawn tomorrow.”

Sharva nodded and when into his rooms where Tirunaut and two servants waited for him. 

Exhaust and anxiety wound around Jacob’s mind as the messenger lead him to Govinda’s apartments. He tried to silence them, knowing that compared to the stresses in the coming weeks they were small. 

The Raja’s quarters were one level higher than Sharva’s. On a typical night the estate would be subdued at this hour, but with the preparations for the march the halls were as busy as during the day. 

It had been months since Jacob had been to Govinda’s apartments, since before the last march, in the east. Little had changed, though he did notice there were less servants and attendants than he expected, supporting Adem’s worry that the Raja had been slowly isolating himself. 

The estate guards at the door nodded to Jacob as he approached, then let him pass. 

The room was dark, only a few candles providing light to so large a space. The windows were uncovered, but the sun had set completely and the moon was not in the sky. In the dim light it took Jacob’s eyes a moment to adjust. Beside him the messenger bowed, then dismissed himself. 

“Come, rest with me, I’m sure you are tired,” the Raja’s voice carried from the back of the room where padded wicker chairs faced out a broad balcony. 

Jacob crossed the room to find Govinda reclined in one chair, a plate of rice, beans and fruit next to him, looking untouched. The Raja was huddled deep into the chair, wearing thin silks. His broad, wrinkled face was pulled down in a scowl. He worked his hands over and over each other in his lap as he stared out the balcony and over the view of the city beyond. 

“Please, help yourself,” he inclined his head to the plate of food, “I’m sure you’ve had little time to eat, and my appetite has failed me.”

Jacob did not sit, but walked to the doorway that lead to the balcony and leaned against the frame.

He bowed his head, “Thank you my Raja, but I am alright. How may I serve you?”

“Please, sit, it is late.”

Jacob sat, holding in a deep sigh. He perched on the edge of the chair and faced the Raja.

Govinda did not look at him, and for a long moment did not speak. When he did, he squeezed his hands in his lap.

“Of all the things I’ve lost to old age, what I miss most are my joints,” he opened and closed his hands slowly. The fingers would not close completely, the knuckles large and swollen, “Once your joints betray you, everything begins to fade. Your limbs grow weak from disuse, and the things that once brought you joy are now are a painful impossibility.” 

Jacob swallowed heavily and looked away, unable to hold the Raja’s gaze. This distance between them, the distance between mortal and immortal was one it pained Jacob to confront. There was no bridge across it, because even if he told Govinda the truth, he knew that would make them further apart. Govinda would see him for the stranger he really was. Jacob had never told a mortal of his true nature, and did not know that he ever would. 

His mind provided, unbidden, an image of Vakari, but he knew it he would never tell her. Now he sighed and looked to the ground, ashamed to think of Vakari in her father’s presence. 

“How go the preparations?” Govinda asked.

“Well. They are good men, almost a quarter veterans. They will be a credit to your empire.”

“It is hard not to be with them.”

Jacob nodded and looked back to the Raja. Govinda flexed his hands again.

“Time takes all things from us, Kalin,” he spoke in a quiet voice, almost to himself, “The men could not see me like this. No, it must be Pratih and Karka.”

“They are good men, both.” Jacob had served under the Raja’s nephew Karka in the last Northern war, when they’d taken the lands into the empire.

“Kalin, I have called you here to tell me about my son, Sharva.”

What do you wish to know?” Jacob’s tired mind tried to find the right tone. To be a bodyguard Jacob had to be loyal both to the Raja and to the prince. He was lucky that those two loyalties rarely conflicted, but he knew one day they would.

“I have talked with his teachers and tutors, and they all tell me the same thing, that Sharva is a more compassionate and clever man than his father.”

Jacob grinned at this, though the grin faded when he saw Govinda’s scowl deepen. 

“His compassion was evident his whole life. When his mother took him for walks through the garden we would snatch up the worms who’d wriggled out after the rain to save them from baking in the sun,” he closed his eyes and sighed deeply, “I told him that even in the soil they would die, and that made him cry.” He closed his eyes, “Tell me Jacob, why does he not want to join the priesthood? I have always thought he would join the ranks of the Brahman. A life of contemplation, of reflection, like those Jain he so respects, who will not work to cut the soil for fear of killing a worm.”

“Why do you ask me this, my Raja, and not Sharva?”

Govinda opened his eyes and looked straight at Jacob for the first time, “Less now, but still, in the roundness of his cheeks, that dark hair, it is like looking into the face of his mother. His sister is the same,” Govinda shook his head, “If I allowed Vakari, that girl would whisper in my ear and I’m afraid I would hear Utaiyai’s voice.”

“Your wife always gave you good counsel, my Raja.”

“My children are not Utaiyai, and they are strange to me. Pratah I understand, his eyes are a reflection of my own.”

“Sharva is more like you than you know. You should keep him closer to you.”

“I had thought... hoped he would be a priest, but his chance for that is almost over. But does he have the spine to be anything more?”

Jacob edged closer to the Raja so he was nearly out of the set, “Your son does not enjoy battle, swords, blood, but he has a stronger spine than most men. Tonight he told me of Pratah’s attempts to control him,” something sparked in Govinda’s eyes, and he was suddenly more alert, sitting up straighter in his chair, “Sharva understood his brother’s motives, and Pratah’s ambitions.” 

“He wants Sharva to join the first pillar,” Govinda said. 

Jacob nodded, “And Sharva understood the good it would do him, and the bad. He found his own path.”

Govinda sighed, slumping again, “I had four sons, and now I have two. If not for you, Kalin, I might have none.” Images flashed in Jacob’s mind, the face of a boy turning black as he choked for air. “They are both good men, my sons, yet I am not charged with raising men, but kings. Could either of my sons lead this land?”

“I can not tell you that, my Raja.”

“If the choice were yours?”

Jacob swallowed, and looked down, “I would choose Karka. Your nephew has won the respect of soldiers and lords, and he has much love for you.” 

He felt a weight of shame in his stomach, knowing had not put Sharva’s name forward here, with the Raja. But Govinda had asked for the truth. 

“You served under Karka,” the Raja said.

“I did.”

“A soldier and a bodyguard, I thought you might name my nephew,” he nodded, “I wish Karka were here. I gave him his own provenance to govern, and I lost my best adviser.”

Outsides the stars had winked to life. The heat was finally bleeding from the air, and breeze came in from the balcony, rustling the hair of both men. 

“What path did Sharva find?” Govinda asked, “With his brother.”

“He has asked to have a more active field role in the third pillar. He will work with one of my lieutenants. He has also instructed me to reduce his guard. 

“You have been a good teacher to him, Kalin.”

“Thank you, my Raja.”

“I should have sent him with Karka,” Govinda nodded now, “My nephew would have pushed him where I could not. But I did not think Sharva wanted to be pushed.”

He reached to the table beside the chair, a letter marked with the Rashtrakutan seal of Garuda in flight. It shook in Govinda’s hand as he lifted it and passed it to Jacob.

“I want this letter to go directly to Karka’s hand.” Jacob took it, not letting curiosity draw his eyes down to inspect it. “I am not ready for anyone by my nephew to know the contents of this letter.”

Jacob nodded and placed it in his lap.

“I’m sorry to have used so much of your time tonight, I’ve let my mind wander too long.”

“It is no bother, my Raja.”

“You may leave me now. Attend to your own preparations.”

Jacob stood and bowed, the letter in his right hand. He turned to leave, but stopped and looked back.

“My Raja, before Sharva leaves tomorrow, would you like some time with him.”

Govinda did not stir immediately, and when he did, it was only to look at his knuckles as he flexed them again. 

“I am sure his schedule is already set. I will stand to direct the troops tomorrow. I will see him and his brother off then.”

Jacob bowed again, and left.

The estate was settling finally as he returned to Sharva’s apartments. He tapped the letter against his leg as he walked quickly back, then put it in his pocket. His fatigue made his limbs heavy and his eyes itch. 

He tried to unwind his mind so he might get restful sleep tonight. On any other night he would work with is sword to clear his mind, but he was not yet done with his preparations, and his limbs were already too tired for meaningful sword word. 

Rather than turn to Sharva’s apartments, he took the back way into his own rooms. Guilt tugged at his stomach once more as the thought of Sharva waiting for him, but if Vakari was waiting for him still, she would not be much longer. 

When he entered there was a rustle of fabric as someone stood from the bed. A wide smile spread across Jacob’s face and he could feel a weight lifting from his chest. 

“My lady could wait no longer.”

His body felt heavier than ever as he saw who it was - Rushat, Vakari’s maiden. 

“Ah, yes,” he said, nodding, “She left you here?” 

Rushat smiled at him, “She wanted to write you a letter, but feared -”

Jacob waved at her to stop, “Yes, I understand, she could not trust a letter. Others might see it.”

The woman walked to him and tilted her head. She was a short woman, and her arms and legs were well muscled from dance. She had a round face and bright green eyes. Jacob had spent much time with her, training her in swords and daggers so she could serve as a guard for Vakari. 

“You will be traveling south with her,” Jacob asked.

“I will keep her safe. Do you want to know her message.”

“Goodbye?” Jacob guessed.

Rushat gave a weary smile, “Not so simple as that. I think my lady is afraid to let you go, afraid you’ll find another.” 

He looked at her, his full weight of exhaustion now clear on his face.

“She says she hopes her brother’s pleas to the Raja were heard, that she will not have to marry. But even if she does, she will still think of you.”

Jacob nodded. 

“Do you wish me to tell her anything?”

He sighed, “Tell her,” he shook his head. He wanted to tell Vakari he would wait for her, and if it had been her in the room, he would have said it, would have promised it and more. But it was not Vakari, it was Rushat, and her sharp hazel eyes were watching, “whatever it is you think she needs to hear from me.”

Rushat nodded, and put a hand on Jacob’s arm as she left.

Jacob slumped in his chair and took the Raja’s letter out of his pocket. He set it on the table and stared at it a long time. Surely it was about what the Raja had discussed, about succession. Had the Raja chosen his heir? 

His mind was too tired to think it over clearly, and in truth, it was not his place to worry over it. He stood and crossed into Sharva’s rooms. There Tirunaut stood, watching from the doorway as Sharva lay across the bed. 

“He tried,” Tirunaut said, “but he was so tired.”

“He and I will have many chances to speak on the march, I’m sure whatever it was, he’ll tell me soon,” Jacob nodded to Tirunaut, “you can wait outside, I’ll sit with him a while.” He sat at the edge of the bed and pulled the blanket up over Sharva.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but you look like you’re about to collapse. I’ll stay.”

Jacob grinned slightly, “Probably for the best. If I do collapse, put a pillow under my head.”

Tirunaut laughed, “Yes sir.”

Jacob leaned back and watched Sharva sleep.


End file.
